


What We Protect

by DistantStorm



Series: The Last Safe City [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, The Last City, The Red War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: Hawthorne and her people happen upon the Vanguard after the Guardian uses the Vex teleporter.





	What We Protect

It’s chaos.

Smoke and overexertion burn her lungs, and her hash breathing is punctuated by the roaring warg of Cabal battalions in the distance. Hawthorne knows the transmissions came from around here. There’s a trail of bodies they’re following like breadcrumbs, picking off any who have survived. Her eyes scan the surrounding area, and she reloads just in time to find and pick off an untriggered Scorpius. It would have shredded them like paper if it had been tripped.

Her people fan out, staying back and low like she’s directed - making it more difficult to be picked off by eager Psions - while she takes stairs two at a time and rounds the corner quietly.

Armored legs and feet come into view. They aren’t moving.

She throws a fist out and then up, a signal to come close, telling them not to advance until she gives them another signal. Another half-flight of stairs separates her from the balcony, and she practically leaps up them.

Cayde is laughing weakly, limbs sparking in a strangely surreal way. Ikora is anchored to a railing, legs like jelly preventing her from finding her way upright. Zavala’s eyes are dull and half-lidded, and he’s got his hand lower on his abdomen than before. He’s the most bloodied of them, his armor scuffed, cracked, and dented beyond recognition. She can hear the wheeze-rasp of his breath that suggests he may have a few broken ribs. Lastly, her eyes find the remnants of a Vex teleporter, obviously activated and used per the transmissions she’d been listening in on.

She’s moving forward of her own accord, without thought. This is bad. They cannot be casualties of this war. That much, she knows.

“Ikora, Cayde, you two okay?”

“Right as rain,” Cayde says. “Never felt better.”

Ikora gives a grunt of something that’s anger, pain, and revulsion, all in one. “I’ll live.”

Hawthorne nods, sliding on her knees the last meter that separates her from the commander. “Zavala? Zavala! Look at me.” Her hands peel his larger one away from his abdomen and it flops limply, startling her. Looks like something slashed him rather good, through his armor. “Hey, come on, look at me, Commander.”

It takes a moment for his eyes to spark and glow at her. He looks so tired; so much less than what she knows he is. Her fingers come up to either side of his face, focusing him to look at her. He blinks in recognition at the same time that she hears the whirling sound of an interceptor and the approaching grumble of a pocket of Cabal fighters. Her eyes dart in the direction the sound came from.

“Don’t let him fall asleep,” She tells the other two Vanguard. She knows her people heard her, too. Over her shoulder, she calls, “Hold the rear. You know what we protect.” She rises to her full height and drops her gun from her back to the ready.

A blood-streaked hand reaches up and closes around her wrist. It terrifies her how weak his grip is. “You need to go,” He tells her. “Save yourself.”

She can’t help the laugh that bubbles from her throat, a sad one that would have been the precursor to tears if she were more prone to that sort of thing. “If you think I’m just going to leave you here,” She tells him, “Then you don’t know me as well as I thought,  _Guardian_.”

“Hawthorne,” Ikora’s voice calls from behind her, subdued. “We’re out of bullets.”

Zavala attempts again to stop her. “You can’t expect to-”

“It’s okay.” She reaches to the back of her belt and pulls out a sidearm, placing it in his hand, the one that recently released her other wrist. “If they get past me,” She tells him, leaning down so that their faces are closer together, “Not that I’m going to let them, use this. My team will help fend them off.” Her voice is gentle. “It’s going to be fine.”

She rises and turns her back to them, stalking to the battered edge of the balcony. Takes a deep breath and centers herself. She knows she can do this. She has to.

“Hawthorne!” Zavala’s eyes are pleading when she turns back. He knows she won’t listen but he has to try. Quieter, he breathes, “Suraya.” One last ditch effort.  _It’s okay_ , he’s trying to tell her.  _The Vanguard has done its part._  There is no telling what awaits her down there.

A two finger salute is her reply. “What is it you always say?” Her lips pull into a smile. “Be brave.”


End file.
